


Suited

by Transposable_Element



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Backstory, Calormen, Courtship, F/M, Female Gaze, Grief/Mourning, Horses, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-22
Updated: 2015-09-16
Packaged: 2018-03-25 04:53:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 15
Words: 22,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3797461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Transposable_Element/pseuds/Transposable_Element
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Young Kidrash Tarkaan, new lord of Calavar, needs a wife. Widowed Veledis Tarkheena needs a husband. What are the odds?<br/><br/>(In case it isn't clear, these are Aravis's parents.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Homecoming

**Author's Note:**

> I include the "underage" warning because I write about the cultural practice of marrying young girls to older (sometimes much older) men. I haven't written any explicit sex scenes, but I do allude to the sexual component of Veledis's first marriage.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kidrash comes home from the wars.

Kidrash Tarkaan received the news of his father’s death as his cavalry regiment was returning from a campaign in the western mountains. He rent his tunic and prayed to Zathir to deliver his father safely into the next realm. Then he prepared to go home. His commanding officer released him; the next time Kidrash rode to war it would be at the head of his own troops. 

Kidrash left his orderly to settle his debts and bring home his charger and effects so that he might ride home as quickly as possible, stopping only to eat, sleep briefly and restlessly, and change horses. But he did not truly feel the weight of his father’s death until he saw the white flags flying above his family’s estate and, as he drew nearer, made out the shrouds covering the windows and smelled the offerings burning on the altar in the courtyard. The guards and servants greeted him as Lord of Calavar. It had taken him five days to ride home. His father had already been dead for nine days.

He was 17, a man two years past his majority, with two years of service in the Tisroc’s cavalry behind him, but at that moment he felt as weak as a fledgling. He had not expected to be Lord of Calavar for 20 years or more. How could his father have succumbed to an apoplexy at 38?

His mother, sisters, and brother were waiting for him in his mother’s chambers. They were all clad in pure white. Kidrash wore a white armband and turban, and during the ride home this had felt strange and artificial, as though he were putting on the trappings of a mourner. Now they seemed but feeble emblems of his bereavement. He bent his head before his mother and she kissed his brow. There was little to say. 

Two days later the initial 11 days of mourning came to an end. For good or ill, the soul of Rishti Tarkaan, Lord of Calavar, had passed into the next realm, where his family's prayers and offerings could not follow. The shrouds were removed from the windows and it was permissible to speak of things not directly related to mourning or to the basic necessities of life. It was time for Kidrash to sit down for a serious talk with his mother. 

They spoke first of the estate, of how he must meet with the steward and the captain of the men-at-arms and the various retainers who would help him to take up his father’s responsibilities. He must also make a progress throughout Calavar, visiting nobles and the larger untitled landowners so that they could swear fealty to their new lord. They discussed the education of his younger brother, who was 13 and would be riding out with the cavalry in two years. They discussed the upcoming wedding of his sister Sithris, which must now be postponed for at least five months. This last topic led to one he had been half expecting since he returned home. 

“O my son, we must find you a wife,” his mother said.

“Even at such a time as this?”

“You will need an heir. We had thought there was no need to hurry, but now…”

“O my mother, I have an heir in my brother Alimath.”

“And as Lord of Calavar, you will need a woman’s guidance.”

“O my mother, I have you to guide me.”

She looked at him narrowly. “Do you not wish to marry, my son? Do you wish to remain in the world of warriors?”

“Yes, of course I wish to marry,” he said, taken aback. He was no warrior, his mother must know that! “But is it not unseemly to contemplate such a thing while we are in mourning?”

“We will take no formal steps for some time,” she said. “But there is no harm in beginning to think about what sort of wife you will want.”

“Beautiful, intelligent, and modest, of course,” he said. “Graceful as a gazelle, wise as a dolphin, clever as a vixen, fierce as a she-eagle…”

His mother barely managed to suppress a smile. “Be sensible, Kidrash,” she said.

“Of course, mother. But the gods blessed my father with a peerless wife, and so I know exactly what to pray for.”


	2. Reasoning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Veledis reflects on her first marriage.

Veledis knew that she had been fortunate in her first husband, Fariz Tarkaan of Tanadar, especially after hearing some of the travails of other virgin brides. The middle-aged and elderly men who took young girls as wives were often dull, inconsiderate, and neglectful, and many were far worse: repulsive, cruel, tyrannical. No wonder so many young brides sought comfort in the arms of other women (or, more dangerously, other men). No wonder so many embraced the freedom of widowhood and elected not to remarry. Veledis suspected several of her peers of hastening their husbands’ deaths. Knowing some of what these girls had suffered, she prayed to Hahatoth to show them mercy.

But Fariz was a good husband. When they married he was 62, but he was still a vigorous, fine-looking man. When he came to her bed he was gentle and undemanding, but though she did not dread his touch, she felt no passion for him. Still, he tried to please her, so in order to respond the way he wished her to, she imagined gods and heroes of legend in his place. She did not tell him, of course, and she sometimes wondered if she was betraying him by doing this. At least it seemed preferable to imagining a mortal man. There were, after all, many stories in which a god lay with a mortal woman by appearing in the guise of her husband, and in these stories the wife was held blameless.

She soon realized that Fariz wanted something more than a pretty young wife. He encouraged her in her studies and was pleased when she began to attend the ladies’ salons in Azim Balda, where she was usually the youngest woman present. The second winter after they were married, while he was at court in Tashbaan, he allowed her to stay in the south and attend the Academy at Zalkeen. After that he brought her to Tashbaan whenever he went to court, so she could learn to navigate the political landscape of the capital.

Once she asked Fariz why he was so concerned about her education.

“It is my duty to train you to be a mother of tarkaans,” he said. “That is the only good excuse for an old man to marry a young wife.”

“Do you think so, my husband? I think most men would say something different.”

“Perhaps they would. But a man need not marry merely because he desires a young girl for his bed, or even because he wishes to get an heir. I can name many tarkaans and toltans who come from concubines—even Ardeeb Tisroc was the son of a concubine.”

“I suppose so. But a man might marry for connections or a dowry.”

“True. But that was not my reason for marrying you, as you well know.”

“Then do you mean to say, O my husband, that you married me out of duty?”

“No, O my wife, and O the delight of my eyes," he said fondly. "Only that, having married you, I will _do_ my duty.”

Fariz’s first two wives had given him only daughters, and he seemed content with his nephew Ilsamin as an heir. When they married he said she was too young to bear a child right away, and he sent her to the midwife to teach her how to avoid conceiving until her body was ready. Nevertheless he was overjoyed when, three years into their marriage, she gave him a son, Vardash. Ilsamin, who had been Fariz’s heir for 30 years, did not hide his displeasure in this, and so Fariz drew his will to make Veledis her son’s regent, trusting her to protect the boy’s interests. He consulted legal scholars who did their best to make the will unbreakable.

Veledis learned a great deal in the capital, and in Azim Balda, and from her studies of history. As her husband’s vigor began to wane, she appreciated more and more the wisdom of his determination to train her to be a mother of tarkaans. During the last three years of his life Fariz was often ill. She was acutely aware that he would soon leave her, and that when he did she must be ready to hold the reins of power until her son was able to take them up for himself.

The marriage lasted 14 years, and when Fariz died Veledis mourned him sincerely. She made the required sacrifices and observed all the proper forms. She comforted her children. She wept. Meanwhile, she worked to ensure her son’s future. Her father, Idrith Toltan, had been her husband’s vassal and was now her son’s, and four months after her husband’s death she put her father in command of the military defense of Tanadar. She left him, along with a trusted steward, to oversee matters while she traveled to Azim Balda to receive suitors. Unbreakable will or no, she would find it easier to defend her son's birthright with a husband to back her. She had a very clear idea of what she needed, and as the regent for her son and a widow young enough to bear more children she was in a position to make a brilliant match and negotiate a favorable contract.

When he knew that he was dying, Fariz had urged her to remarry. She knew he would expect her to make a shrewd political choice. But at the same time, she yearned to find a husband she could take to bed without having to imagine him a hero out of legend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>   
>   
>  This was a hard chapter to write. I didn't want Veledis to be traumatized or turned off sex, but I also didn't want to seem to be endorsing the idea of marriage, or sex, between a 14-year-old and an adult of any age. That's why I led with the acknowledgement of girls who didn't fare so well in their marriages. I hope it's clear that Veledis copes so well with the situation because it's what she's been brought up to expect. She sees this marriage as a stage in her life that will prepare her for the prime of her life, in which she will have more power and more choice.


	3. Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our principals meet in Azim Balda.

Thirty-three days after his father’s death Kidrash began his progress through Calavar, accompanied by his mother and brother and a column of retainers. One of these retainers was his father's secretary, a slave named Rodit, who each morning presented Kidrash with a plan for the day that would husband their resources and lead them by evening to a host ready to offer them hospitality. His father had always said that Rodit was indispensible, and Kidrash began to see why. Still, the journey was as draining as riding out on a campaign. They rode from town to village to estate, never sleeping two nights in the same place, and everywhere they were met with ceremony. But it would not do to show weariness; he could hardly complain when his mother, a middle-aged woman and a new widow, never flagged or lost her composure.

The family was in mourning, so they were spared some of the usual business the lord of the province might be expected to address, but there were still disputes or demands that could not wait, and there were long evenings during which their host sought to impress his new lord with lavish hospitality while Kidrash sought only to remain awake and preserve his dignity. All in all, he preferred some of the small hill villages, where they were met with simple comfort, or the port towns and cities, where travellers were common and even a great tarkaan was not so rare a sight. 

The progress took another 33 days, and more. After that, the family traveled to their townhouse in Azim Balda to live there for what remained of the winter, the season of courting. Azim Balda stood near the geographical center of Calormen, where the river Az flowed into the great river Bal. The Empire was founded here 200 years ago, when the southerners under the banner of Azaroth offered peace (some said capitulation) to the followers of Tash. It had been the capital of the Calormene Empire for the next hundred years, until Tashbaan was built, and it was still a crossroads and a gathering place.

Soon after they arrived in Azim Balda Kidrash’s mother began visiting the tea houses, women’s baths, and salons, where ladies congregated to share information. Most young widows eventually remarried, but some chose to become scholars or enter the service of a deity, or to join the household of a blood relative, so it was not surprising that the number of young tarkaans looking for wives exceeded the number of suitable ladies. For Kidrash, a virgin bride was out of the question: “You need a woman, not a girl,” his mother said firmly. “A widow, or, if untouched by scandal, a divorcée. It is unfortunate that Faradis Tarkheena married again last year. If only she had waited…” Kidrash decided that there was no point in protesting that he did not want a wife more than twice his age. Faradis Tarkheena was safely married to her third husband, Aldim Tarkaan, heir of Nidar. Aldim seemed happy enough with the match, but for himself Kidrash thought he would prefer a wife who did not remind him quite so much of his mother, peerless though she was. A mature woman was attractive, but there were limits.

It did not take his mother long to compile a short list of ladies who might do. At the top of her list was Veledis Tarkeena of Tanadar; in fact, this lady was at the top of nearly everybody’s list that season. 

Veledis Tarkheena was a 28-year-old widow with two sons and a daughter, and she was held to be a beauty. Her elder son, Vardash, was now lord of Tanadar Province, and by her husband's will she was regent until the boy came of age in four years. She would likely retain influence over her son even after he took over rulership of the province for himself, and to stand in the relation of stepfather to the lord of another province was a draw for a man of ambition. Her personal fortune was small—her father was a minor nobleman who had done well to marry his beautiful daughter to his ageing liege lord—but she came from a family of distinguished scholars, including some so famed that even Kidrash knew their names: the great mathematician Aravis Tarkheena of Zalkeen, and the astronomer Ardeeb Toltan. Veledis herself was known as a student of history. She had hosted a salon in either Tashbaan or Azim Balda each winter for the last eight years, the youngest lady to run a successful salon as far back as anybody could remember. And she was a lay priestess of Hahatoth, patron of scholars and dispenser of justice.

Kidrash’s mother knew Veledis, though they had not met often; their husbands had been on good terms, but not intimates, being of different generations. The ladies had last seen each other a year ago at Veledis’s salon in Azim Balda. That same winter Vardash and Alimath had been part of the same loose circle of noble youths who studied and made sport together. But Kidrash himself had never met the lady.

“Veledis is the perfect age for you,” said his mother. “Eleven years is a very auspicious age difference.” 

Kidrash saw no reason why Veledis Tarkheena, who had her pick of the young tarkaans on the marriage market, would favor him. Kidrash was Lord of Calavar, true, but the heirs of two other provincial lords were already courting her. And he did not consider that he had much in the way of personal accomplishment. He was an excellent horseman, a keen boxer, and a passable archer, but he had never excelled at the arts of war, and he had not had the opportunity (or, truthfully, the inclination) to make a name for himself in battle. He had spent most of his youth in the south, had little experience with city life, and was frankly a bit shy. Had he not been his father’s heir he might have pursued the priesthood or the life of a scholar. He had had little opportunity since he came of age to go to the parties and gatherings in the city that were among the few places he might converse freely with ladies he was not related to, and now, of course, he was in mourning and did not go out in the evening. He felt at a disadvantage.

He said nothing of this to his mother, but somehow she sensed his doubts. “Don’t fret, Kidrash,” she said. “You’re a handsome boy, intelligent and well-spoken. Veledis appreciates refinement; after all, she has come to seek a husband in Azim Balda, not Tashbaan! She will be pleased that you follow Azaroth, and that you keep to the customs of the south. I think she will be quite taken with you! And of course she is well aware that Calavar shares a border with Tanadar; she will want a strong ally for her son, and the lord of a neighboring province would be ideal. I think she will consider you even if she does not take a personal liking to you.” Kidrash wondered whether his own personal liking was of any moment, but of course he did not say anything about it. 

 

Kidrash’s mother whispered a word into the ear of one of Veledis’s friends, and soon after that she received an invitation to tea. Kidrash was ostensibly there merely to accompany her, but anybody who knew of the meeting would see beyond this polite veil. Veledis had come to Azim Balda two months ago to begin receiving suitors (just around the time of Rishti Tarkaan’s death, so that Kidrash's mother had not been aware until she came to Azim Balda that Veledis was seeking to remarry). A young, unmarried man visiting her with his mother would doubtless be remarked upon by the city’s gossips. Kidrash wished there was another way to go about this. He felt exposed.

Kidrash did not expect to see Veledis Tarkheena’s face at their first meeting, and indeed he did not: she was modestly veiled, exposing only her eyes and brow. He saw nothing to contradict the reports of her beauty. She was slender and of middling height. She had widely spaced, upturned eyes, gracefully arched eyebrows, and a high-bridged nose. Artfully arranged wisps of smoky hair escaped her head covering to frame her smooth forehead. But it seemed unfair that she could look at his face when he could see only a glimpse of hers. 

The words they exchanged were inconsequential. She offered condolences on the death of his father, but as his mother had advised him to do, he referred only obliquely to the death of her husband. They quoted the poets, essayed a few rhetorical flourishes. Her voice was low, firm, and musical, and a few times during their conversation it seemed to him to be tinged with amusement. He felt discomfited, but he managed to keep his equilibrium, even when the lady’s cat jumped into his lap.

As he and his mother were taking their leave, Veledis Tarkheena leaned forward and said something in an undertone to his mother, who laughed softly. Kidrash felt irritated. As they walked back to their own house he held the parasol over his mother’s head, resolving not to ask her what Veledis Tarkheena had said. But then his mother asked, “Do you not wish to know what she said to me?” 

“Only if you wish to tell me, O my mother,” he said, hoping that he didn’t sound as sulky as he felt.

“She said ‘the gods have been kind to your son,’ ” his mother said, with satisfaction.

“And what do you suppose she meant by that?”

“O my son, I suspect she meant that she finds you attractive. We will receive another invitation to visit, I should think.”


	4. Intriguing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Veledis likes what she sees.

Veledis struggled not to laugh when the cat jumped into her suitor’s lap. The young man winced slightly, and she guessed that the cat had clawed him while seeking purchase on his leg. He said nothing and began to stroke the cat’s back.

“I fear that my cat has misapplied her claws. Must I seek your pardon, Tarkaan?” Veledis asked.

“I would readily give the cat my pardon, but I do not think she will ask it,” he replied.

“True. The poets speak of feline grace and feline ferocity, but never of feline remorse,” she said. The cat was settling in now, purring as Kidrash Tarkaan continued to gently stroke her back. Soon she began to drool. When it came time for the young man to take his leave, he had some trouble detaching the animal, who seemed loath to let him go.

 

After Silveen Tarkheena and her son had departed Veledis removed her veil, which she ordinarily wore only when out in public, and went into the small inner courtyard of her townhouse. There she paced restlessly, finally settling herself on a bench before the fountain.

This young man undoubtedly had many of the qualities she was looking for. Indeed, she had known even before this visit that there was much to recommend the match. Calavar was prosperous, famous for its horses and orchards. The family’s politics and connections were sound, and Kidrash would make a strong ally for her son. Of his eight great grandparents seven were of impeccable southern stock, and the eighth was Ilsombreh Tisroc, one of the few rulers of the eastern dynasty whom Veledis truly admired.

He seemed reserved, but not lacking in confidence. His behavior was correct and respectful, and he had not attempted to catch her eye or flirt, as several of her other suitors had done; but she did not think this evidenced a lack of interest. He spoke without hesitation, and the subtlety of his language indicated that he had been properly educated. It did not hurt that he was graceful, well-proportioned, and fit, with a fine profile and eyes like jet. Veledis thought of his hands stroking the cat, and for a moment she felt like purring herself.

But that didn’t tell her what he was made of, she reminded herself sternly. During the last four months she had met two or three handsome, pleasant young tarkaans who might have done well enough if all she wanted was a lover. But she had her son to think of, and she had ambitions she could only pursue through the right kind of husband. Perhaps the gods would see fit to give her a man who could satisfy all of her needs. But until she was certain of the rest she must not think too much of physical attraction. That might cloud her judgment.

After a while she summoned her secretary and instructed her to make inquiries with people who knew Kidrash Tarkaan well: “Friends, lovers, tutors, servants. Officers or soldiers from his regiment, if any are in the city. And enemies, if you can find them; a man’s enemies sometimes know him better than his friends. Make a list. You may refer ladies and well-bred common women to me, and the rest you will have to arrange to interview somehow. Use subterfuge if necessary. You may have Faroozh or Ardith speak to the men. I will ask Vardash to try to get something out of Alimath the next time they meet. It will be good practice for him.”


	5. Bathing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kidrash's friend Corridan comes for a visit.

Kidrash was beginning to wonder if he would ever find his way out of the world of women into which his father’s death had thrust him. He sometimes found it difficult to think of himself as master of the house and head of the family, especially since they had come to Azim Balda. Compared to the estate the household here was small, with more time spent indoors, in his mother's sphere, where she was used to having her way. And he was used to deferring to her about clothes and meals and manners, especially as most of the time it was easiest to assume that she knew what was best. His acquaintance here was small, while his mother seemed to know half the city. Mourning kept him from going to the chariot races or wrestling matches or other masculine entertainments. Besides, most days were taken up with the decorous social engagements that _were_ allowed, including the tedious rounds of visits to ladies on his mother’s list.

One afternoon a few days after their visit with Veledis Tarkheena, Kidrash’s mother went to the Crystal Baths to find out what the gossips were saying. She came back looking pleased. “It seems that Veledis is making inquiries about you, my son. As the poets have said, only a fool is seduced by beauty alone, and Veledis is no fool! She would only investigate you if she were seriously considering pursuing the match. This is a good sign, but we must take nothing for granted. Tomorrow we will lunch with Listaan Tarkheena of the Green Isles.” He wondered what his mother would say if he refused to go to lunch with the lady, but as usual he held his tongue.

The next afternoon, upon returning from lunch with Listaan Tarkheena (Kidrash thought her pretty and pleasant, but his mother declared her “unserious” and “unrefined”), Kidrash found a letter waiting for him. It was from his comrade Corradin, saying that he was on his way home to Tormunt for a season and that he would stop in Azim Balda for eleven days. Kidrash was overjoyed: Corradin was the friend of his heart, and they had parted too suddenly when he received the news of his father’s death. Also, if Corradin were to stay with them Kidrash would be obligated to entertain his guest, and together they would be able to get out of the house.

“O my mother, will you—" He stopped and began again: "O my mother, my comrade Corradin will be arriving in Azim Balda in four days, and we must show him hospitality,” he said.

“Yes, of course, my son,” she said. “But I hope he is not in search of a wife as well. That might prove awkward.”

“No, he is already married,” Kidrash said.

“And he has been away at war? Is he not eager to go home to the arms of his wife?”

“His wife is very young,” he said.

His mother raised her eyebrows. “How young?”

“Ten years old, I think,” he said, and before his mother could begin fulminating about the degenerate customs of the east, he added, “he has not yet consummated the marriage, of course.” He was reasonably certain this was true, and it mollified his mother somewhat.

Eventually Kidrash extricated himself from the conversation and sent word to the guesthouse where Corradin had said he would be staying, telling them to send him directly on to the townhouse when he arrived.

 

Corradin was several months younger than Kidrash, but to Kidrash he always seemed older. He had got his growth early and had a fuller beard and an air of experience. Easterners sent their sons to war younger, so Corradin had ridden out more than a year before Kidrash. Where Kidrash was shy and reserved, Corradin was brash and confident, and when Kidrash joined the Tisroc’s cavalry he had been fortunate that Corradin chose to befriend him, and to help him defend himself against some of the older officers who liked to torment new young blood. Kidrash was so glad to see his friend that he found himself in tears for the first time since those early days of mourning. After they embraced, Corradin held him at arms length and looked at him critically. “Lord of Calavar? I hope you have men serving you that you can trust, my friend.” Then he pulled Kidrash’s beard and laughed.

Kidrash made introductions and gave Corradin a few moments to charm his mother. Then, arm in arm, the two men departed for the baths. Corradin had been riding hard for several days and was in need of a good long soak, and Kidrash was eager to take any excuse to get out of the house for an afternoon.

They went to the Serpentine Baths, which catered to young noblemen and the most elevated young men of the merchant class. In the anteroom they undressed and washed before going into the warm bath, which nearly filled the room, with only a narrow deck around its edge. There were quite a few men there, most in the bath, some sitting on its lip. Kidrash sank gratefully into the water, closing his eyes and enjoying the sound of masculine voices without paying much attention to the conversations going on around him. He felt more at ease than he had since his father’s death.

“Good tile work,” said Corradin, scanning the walls.

Kidrash nodded. Corradin had an eye for such things; he often boasted of the glorious mosaics in his father’s house and the great temple of Tash in Ilfar. “I thought you would appreciate it,” said Kidrash.

“…good enough for Azim Balda,” continued Corradin, making Kidrash laugh.

Corradin told him news of some of their friends, and they discussed the progress (or its lack) in the western war. They spoke of horses; Corradin had a new war horse, a fine chestnut gelding. Kidrash told his friend a little about his mother's efforts to find him a wife.

"Do you like any of these ladies?" asked Corradin.

"My mother likes Veledis Tarkheena."

"But do _you_ like her?"

"I've met her once. She's...intelligent and...cultured. Sophisticated. She was veiled, but she's said to be very beautiful."

"But do you _like_ her?"

"I don't know."

"You don't wish to talk about her."

"There's nothing to say."

So Corradin gave up and began instead to expound upon the problems he was having with his father, Barradin, lord of Ilfar Province. Corradin was his father's third son, and five years ago he had been married to the daughter of one of his father's vassals who had died without a male heir. Since coming of age Corradin was titular lord of Castle Tormunt, his father-in-law’s estate (small, but strategically important, located at the mouth of the river Dern), but he had spent little time there and his father seemed to regard it as his own. “He says that in his grandfather’s day he would have just married the girl himself. He thinks it's ridiculous that now only the Tisroc is allowed more than one wife,” Corradin said. “But in any case he acts as though he _has_ married her and I’m only his proxy, and an absent one at that. He cannot—” Corradin stopped abruptly. “I’m sorry,” he said. “You’re mourning your father (peace be upon him); I ought not to be complaining of mine.”

Kidrash shrugged. He did grieve the loss of his father, but right now what he felt more than anything was the loss of his equilibrium, the sense that the life he had expected to lead for the next decade had been roughly snatched away from him. “You are lucky not to have to go looking for a wife,” Kidrash said to his friend.

“No, I merely have to wait for mine to grow up,” said Corradin.

“And how much longer must you wait?”

“Who knows? Three or four years, probably, before she’s ready to be a proper wife. Maybe longer. I’m not especially eager, to tell the truth, which is just as well. I’ve hardly seen her since we married, you know. Her mother seems to think I can’t be trusted with her. But by Tash! If I take her to bed before she’s ripe it would violate the contract, and then if her mother wanted they could void the marriage. I’d have to give back Tormunt and pay 20,000 crescents—which would come out of my father’s purse, as I don’t have it myself. My father would have my beard for it, and probably my balls as well….” Corradin sighed. “I don’t know why he cared so much that I be lord of Tormunt. Whoever married the girl would still be his vassal.”

“He trusts your loyalty, perhaps?” Kidrash suggested.

Corradin snorted. “My father trusts nobody….”

They soaked for a time in the warm bath before progressing to the sauna and after that to the cold plunge. Then they made another circuit before oiling themselves. When Corradin began to spread oil his back Kidrash felt momentarily aroused and wondered if Corradin would suggest going to one of the private rooms upstairs. Kidrash knew he would go if asked, but at the same time he felt uncomfortable with the idea, though he could not say precisely why. For some reason what had been natural and right in a bivouac in the mountains seemed out of place here in Azim Balda (although obviously many men did not see it that way). But Corradin either felt as he did or sensed how Kidrash felt, because he didn’t suggest it.

Instead, he proposed going to a brothel. Kidrash declined.

“By Tash! Why not?” Corradin asked.

“I’m in mourning.”

“Your father (peace be upon him) would not mind! He would not wish you to deny yourself.”

“If you'd ever met him you wouldn’t say that.”

Corradin looked at him shrewdly. “You southerners are too afraid of women,” he said.

“I’m not afraid of women!”

“Yes you are. You’re afraid that your mother will find out, or one of your eligible widows.”

“And you’re afraid of your mother-in-law,” Kidrash pointed out.

“No, if I fear anything it is the consequences of breaking the contract—”

“Which she negotiated!”

Corradin snorted again. “Women ought not to have the power to make contracts, anyway. And why do they have that power? Why, I believe it came about when _your_ great-grandmother exercised her wiles upon Ilsombreh the Great!”

“Ilsombreh was establishing a legal code for the whole empire. In the south women have always been able to make contracts, and if he had taken that power away, it would have made many contracts invalid. It would have been chaos!” In fact, from everything he had read, not to mention family lore, Kidrash was sure that his great-grandmother Sithris of Calavar, the third wife of Ilsombreh the Great, had indeed had much influence on the Code of Ilsombreh. But he saw no reason to debate this with Corradin.

In any case, Corradin was now out of his depth, not being much of a student of law or history, so he returned to the question under consideration. “Well, I want to go,” he said, “and if I do, you’ll have to come with me. If you return to your house without me, your mother will wonder where I am.”

“Are you afraid of her?”

“I don’t wish to offend a host.”

“Well, _I_ don’t wish to sit waiting for you in the anteroom in a fog of cheap perfume….”

“ _Fine_ perfume,” said Corradin.

“Any kind of perfume. But if you really want to go I suppose I can take myself to a tea house, or maybe up to the academy.”

Corradin shook his head. "You'll have to learn about women someday, Kidrash."

"I know everything that I need to know."

At that, Corradin looked skeptical, and Kidrash didn't blame him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been meaning to mention that the seed of my ideas about regional differences in Calormen is a line in _The Horse and His Boy_ , when the Hermit is narrating the battle at Anvard: "With him are his most trusted lords, fierce Tarkaans from the eastern provinces." (One of these lords is Corradin of Castle Tormunt, who gets decapitated by Edmund during the battle. Darn.) 
> 
> Anyway, the eastern lords are especially fierce, it seems, and that got me thinking about the other regions of Calormen, and what they might be like.


	6. Evaluating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Veledis seeks advice from a friend.

Kamaleen Toltara was a childhood friend of Veledis. Her father, too, was a vassal of Tanadar, and being of an age they were deemed suitable friends for one another and spent a great deal of time in each other's company when they were girls. Kamaleen married first, and Veledis accompanied her when she performed the rites of Zardeenah. But Kamaleen's husband was jealous and suspicious and did not allow her to travel or have guests, and they did not see each other again until he died, after what Kamaleen described as "nine years of hell." Those years had changed Kamaleen: she was harsher, shrewder, more ruthless. Still, the two women renewed their friendship, and Veledis found that despite Kamaleen's new armor, she was tender and sympathetic underneath, at least to her female friends.

Knowing how much Kamaleen despised her first husband, Veledis was surprised when she remarried a year after his death. Kamaleen explained bluntly that she had married for money. "If we divorce it will cost him half his fortune, even if he is the one who initiates the divorce," she said. "So he must tread carefully, and I can do almost anything I wish to do. I would not have married him without that in the contract. I will never let a man hold my reins again." Her second husband adored her. Within a year Kamaleen gave him a son, and since the contract did not require her to attempt any further pregnancies once she had borne a son, she allowed him into her bed only rarely after that. "Only when it amuses me. He should have read the contract more carefully," she said.

Veledis thought that perhaps Kamaleen, with her blunt and practical attitude toward marriage, would be a good person to help her evaluate her prospects. The season was nearing its end, and Veledis had narrowed her suitors down to three. She invited Kamaleen to tea and asked her opinion.

“The choice seems clear enough to me,” said Kamaleen. “If your motive is to gain a strong ally for your son, you should choose Zalman of Ilkeen. If it is to fulfill your political ambitions, you should choose Aarden of the Fire Islands. But I think you are intrigued by this young Kidrash of Calavar, and you are seeking a reason to choose him instead.”

“He seems very promising,” Veledis said.

“Many youths of great promise come to nothing,” said her friend.

“But many succeed, especially with the right wife to guide them. In any case, he would make a fine ally for Vardash."

“Zalman would be a better. As long as his father lives he won’t be taken up with governing Ilkeen. He would be free to devote more of his energy to supporting Vardash. With the favor of the gods Vardash will be strong enough to hold Tanadar for himself by the time Zalman becomes lord of Ilkeen.”

“But I’m uneasy about him. As far as I can determine his personal reputation is good, but our dealings with Ilkeen over the years have been strained. They are landlocked and most of their goods must go through our ports. Zalman's father constantly made trouble for Fariz (on whom be the peace of the gods). I fear that Zalman may wish to control Vardash, rather than support him. He may even try to annex Tanadar.”

“I am certain you could negotiate a contract that would exclude him from any claim to lordship of Tanadar.”

“Possibly. But contracts can be broken or misapplied. Once a man has taken power in fact, a contract means very little. I would rather negotiate a contract with a man I think can be trusted to keep to it, and that he has no strong motive to break.”

“So you wish to make Vardash secure in his inheritance. What does he say for himself?”

“Oh, he likes Kidrash best, although I think it is mainly because he and Alimath are friends. But he also dislikes Zalman. I am not certain why.”

“Well then, what of Aarden?”

“He is brilliant and will no doubt go far. So you are correct: if my only wish were to advance politically, he would be the best choice. It is easy to imagine him rising to be Grand Vizier. And he is a little older, more seasoned, not just a promising youth. But…it would not be a true marriage…”

“Ah. He would be no use to you in bed?”

“No,” said Veledis, with a dry laugh. “He has been quite forthright about that. He has no interest in women, and his brothers among them have many sons, so he has no need of an heir. He would prefer not to consummate the marriage at all, although he said he would try if that was what I wanted.”

“How flattering…”

“It seems an unpleasant prospect, does it not, to take a man to bed when he has no wish to be there?”

Kamaleen shrugged. “Many men do not seem to worry about whether their bedmate wishes to be there. My first husband, for instance. But if Aarden has no desire for you and does not need an heir, why does he wish to marry you?”

“He admires my mind. He thinks we could achieve a great deal together. In that he may be correct.”

“Well, if you did marry him, you could always take a lover.”

“Yes. He has pointed out that he would have no cause to complain if I did. We could even write it into the contract—not explicitly, of course, but in so many words. But that is not what I want. And…if we married I would have to agree not to bear any children; if I took a lover and got pregnant, I would have to abort—I would have to agree in advance, and it would make no difference how I felt at the time. The whole arrangement begins to seem like a house with no floor.”

“In that case, tell me about Kidrash.”

“You know his mother...”

“A fine woman. And his father (peace be upon him) was a fine man. But fruit from even the most excellent tree may rot.”

“That is so. But I think they have raised him well. He has a strong sense of duty. He has the reputation of being intelligent and diligent, respectful of women. A good officer, if not a brilliant soldier. He doesn’t drink heavily, or gamble, or frequent brothels,” Veledis said.

“He is in mourning,” Kamaleen pointed out.

“His cavalry regiment came through Azim Balda eight months ago, and by all accounts he was continent then as well. No reports of liaisons with slaves or commoners—”

“That speaks well of his taste.”

“Or with noblewomen.”

“And that speaks well of his discretion. Unless he is like Aarden?”

“Nobody seems to think so. He had a comrade in arms, of course—an easterner named Corradin. He came to Azim Balda a few days ago, and I thought we might get something out of him. _He_ has no aversion to brothels, so we paid a courtesan to try to coax some information from him, but he realized what she was up to and refused to say anything about Kidrash except to praise him.”

“It seems that Kidrash knows how to choose his friends, then.”

“Yes, or perhaps he was lucky. But he does seem circumspect. Cautious, deliberate. We haven’t found any real enemies, nothing worse than some bad blood between him and another young tarkaan over mistreatment of a horse.”

“So he is an upright young man. That is not so unusual.”

“True,” said Veledis, sighing. “I wish I knew whether he is adept at managing conflict, or merely amiable.”

“There’s nothing wrong with amiability.”

“Of course not. But I want a husband with some strength of mind! Someone I can influence by reason and good argument, not because he is weak or suggestible.”

“Do you have any cause to think Kidrash is such a man? He is so young.”

“You know that I am not prone to whimsy, but I have an intuition about him.”

“And does this intuition reside in your heart? or your belly?...or perhaps lower still?”

“He is a handsome youth,” said Veledis primly.

Kamaleen smiled. “In that case, would you like to see him out of his tunic?”

Veledis stared at her for a moment. “Out of his…what?”

“I have heard that now that 99 days have passed since his father's death his friends have persuaded him to box at the arena. If you wish to see it, there is a gallery upstairs where we can sit behind a curtain.” Kamaleen laughed at her friend’s expression. “You ought to enjoy widowhood more, Veledis,” she said. “It’s really the best time of one’s life!”

“But why…I mean, besides to peek at him…”

“Men act very differently when women are not present. Of course they know that ladies sometimes sit in the gallery, but I think that since they cannot see us they forget we are there. It can be very revealing.”

"Ah. Well in that case, I suppose we must go."


	7. Watching

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Veledis and Kamaleen go to the fights.

When Veledis and Kamaleen climbed up to the gallery there were three ladies already there: two were very young and giggly (probably bored young brides escaping their husbands for an afternoon) and the other was a serious older woman with a sketch tablet. The curtain was heavy and opaque, but there were spyglasses set up on stands so that they could watch the arena through small slits in the curtain without being seen.

Except for Fariz, the only bare-chested men Veledis had ever seen were in paintings and sculptures in the temples of Agnath and Bakka. Fariz had been shy about showing his aging body to her, so if he came to her bed when it was light enough to see, he had often kept his torso covered up. Once she accused him of vanity, and he agreed: “You do not know what I was in my prime, O my wife, but I cannot forget it, or forgive the ruin of my form.”

In any case, the men in the arena wore only loose trousers. Their bodies were shiny with oil and sweat. The eldest looked about 30, although some of the spectators were much older. A fight was already in progress between two men whom neither Veledis nor Kamaleen recognized. Veledis thought the one in the black trousers was better looking, but it was not long before he surrendered to his scraggy-bearded opponent. The male spectators stood in a ragged crowd around the arena, and when the bout ended they stamped their approval or hissed their displeasure.

It was true what Kamaleen had told her: their behavior was very different from anything she had seen before. They laughed loudly, called out jeers to each other, touched each others’ backs and shoulders in passing, pulled each others’ beards (playfully? insultingly?). She wasn’t certain what to make of it.

“Just watch,” said Kamaleen. She explained some of the rules to Veledis, who knew nothing of boxing. A man could use his fists, forearms, elbows, shoulders, and hips to strike at his opponent, but he was not allowed to grasp or hold his opponent (“that is wrestling,” scoffed Kamaleen). He must keep his knees and feet to himself and not strike at his opponent's face or head. Open hands could be used only for blocking. A man could call a brief truce by shouting “hold” and then opening his hands and holding them up, palms forward, until he was ready to go on. The bout was over when a man surrendered verbally or by placing his hands on his own forehead, or when a man was knocked to the floor, or when the judge decided to end the bout. The winner of a bout then offered to fight anybody in the crowd, and if nobody accepted this challenge he retired victorious and ceded the arena to the next pair of contestants.

“Why?” asked Veledis.

Kamaleen shrugged. “Those are the rules.”

“And the judge decides what is fair?”

“Yes. He is supposed to be impartial, but they rarely are.”

They continued to watch. The next bout seemed to go on for a long time, and Veledis veered strangely between boredom and excitement. Finally boredom won, and she took her eye from the spyglass and sat back. The two young ladies next to her watched through their spyglasses and giggled incessantly. Eventually she heard the burst of stamping and hissing that indicated the bout was over. 

“That man with the awful beard has won again,” said Kamaleen, peering through her spyglass. “Now he is making his challenge. No takers….he retires.” There was more shouting and stamping. Things were quiet for a few minutes, and Veledis was about to suggest going home when Kamaleen spoke again. “Here is your young man,” she said. Veledis looked through her spyglass. Kidrash was standing opposite the gallery, just inside the far rim of the arena. He was stripped to the waist, apparently ready to fight, and appeared relaxed and unselfconscious. Veledis thought he looked quite fine: long torso, narrow hips, skin like burnished bronze.

“His beard is scanty,” Kamaleen commented.

“He is not yet 18,” said Veledis, severely. "Give him time."

Kidrash was standing with another young man, a little taller than he and more heavily muscled. The giggly young tarkheenas began to discuss which of them was better looking.

“Ah, that is Corridan with him,” said Kamaleen.

“You know him?” Veledis asked, surprised.

“His half sister is a cousin of my first husband,” said Kamaleen. “She was one of the few members of his family I could tolerate.”

“Are they going to fight? But they are comrades!” This elicited a new spate of giggles from the young ladies.

“It is a contest. They won’t hurt each other.”

The two young men faced each other in the center of the arena. Kidrash said something and Corradin laughed. They grasped each other's shoulders, holding each other at arm's length and bending forward until their foreheads touched. The judge, a stocky older man, cried out “begin,” and they sprang apart.

The bout did not last long. Corradin had the advantage of weight, but Kidrash was quicker and clearly more skilled. After a few circles and feints he knocked Corradin back twice in quick succession, the first time with a combination of elbow and hip, and the second time with a fist to the midsection. Corradin seemed willing to continue, but at that the judge ended the bout, declaring Kidrash the winner. This time there was a great deal of stomping and only a few hisses. The two girls squealed, and the older woman with the tablet finally lost patience with them and told them to be quiet. Corradin appeared to be congratulating his friend. Then, so briefly that Veledis almost missed it, Corradin glanced up at the gallery where they were sitting. 

Veledis grew suspicious. “Does he know we are here?” she asked.

“Possibly,” said Kamaleen.

“How?”

“Perhaps someone saw us as we were entering the building and told him,” said Kamaleen.

“Or perhaps he heard it from a mouse,” said Veledis drily. Kamaleen smiled, but did not reply.

They watched as Kidrash issued his challenge. Someone called out an acceptance, and Veledis gasped when she saw who it was. She turned to her friend. “Kamaleen, did you…”

Kamaleen looked at her, all innocence. “What is it?”

“Did you have anything to do with this?”

“How could I?”

“I’m sure you could find a way,” said Veledis, watching as Zalman made his way to the center of the arena. 

"He's quite fine-looking, too," said Kamaleen. "I don't know why you should prefer the other."

"I never said I did," said Veledis. In truth, there was nothing wrong with Zalman's physique, but opposite Kidrash he struck her as rather graceless.

Zalman and Kidrash held each other by the shoulders, touching their foreheads together, and the bout began.

They seemed evenly matched, but not long into the bout there was some hissing from the crowd.

“What is happening?” asked Veledis.

“Zalman is using his feet,” said Kamaleen. Veledis watched more closely and saw that it was true. Zalman kept tangling his feet with those of his opponent, trying to throw him off balance.

“Why doesn’t the judge stop him?” asked Veledis.

“As I said, the judge is rarely impartial. But it may be easier to see it from up here than it is from the ground. The crowd is not showing much reaction. If they could see what we can see, they would be shouting."

At that moment the judge did step in and separate the two men, wagging his head at them.

"They should have the judge sit in the gallery," said Veledis.

"But then how could he intervene?"

The bout continued, but it was not long before Kidrash shouted “Hold!” He stepped back, holding his hands out to the sides, palms forward. Zalman had his back to the gallery and Veledis couldn’t see his face. Slowly, Kidrash dropped his hands to his sides. It was the signal to begin again, but he made no other move. After a moment, Zalman rushed forward and drove an elbow into his chest, a blow that looked so painful Veledis sucked in her breath in sympathy. Kidrash staggered backward but quickly regained his balance, stepping forward again to the place where he had been standing. Zalman hit him again, and again Kidrash made no move to defend himself. Zalman circled, and Veledis could see a puzzled expression on his face. The two girls were whispering to each other excitedly, and even the older woman grunted in what seemed to be approval. 

“What is Kidrash doing?” Veledis asked.

“Forcing Zalman to show his heart or swallow it,” said Kamaleen.

Zalman held out his hands in truce and approached Kidrash. The two men spoke to each other, but the ladies could not hear what they were saying. Then the fight started again. Zalman was better behaved, but Kamaleen pointed out a foul or two. Eventually the judge stopped the fight and, ignoring some shouts and hisses from the crowd, declared Zalman the winner. The two girls moaned in disappointment, and the older woman gave a disgusted snort.

Zalman issued his challenge as Kidrash walked calmly to the rim of arena where Corradin was waiting for him. Corradin put an arm around his friend and the two men spoke. Abruptly, Kidrash looked up at the gallery and then hurriedly dropped his gaze. Corradin then called out something (Veledis thought she heard the word "widow"), and Zalman looked up as well.

“Ah, now they know you are here,” said Kamaleen. Veledis glanced suspiciously at her friend, but Kamaleen was still peering through her spyglass and did not meet her eye.

Veledis turned back to what was happening in the arena. Kidrash and Corradin appeared to be having a heated discussion. Zalman, who had not yet left the arena, turned toward the gallery, put his hand to his forehead in a gesture of surrender, and bowed. 

“Does he think he has impressed me?” asked Veledis.

“I don't know,” said Kamaleen thoughtfully. “It depends on whether he believes that you understand what has happened today in the arena. But I see that you were right to be uneasy about him. The man cannot be trusted.”

Nobody had accepted Zalman's challenge and a new fight was beginning with two new contestants. The two girls were bouncing excitedly in their seats, but Veledis had lost interest in what was going on in the arena. “Kamaleen, did you plan this?” she asked.

“What do you mean by ‘plan’?” asked Kamaleen. “I brought you to a place where I thought you would be able to make useful observations. But I did not plan what happened in the arena.”

“What did Corradin do?”

Kamaleen shrugged. “It is obvious that neither Zalman nor Kidrash knew that we were here until he told them just now. If he had a hand in making sure they fought today, what does it matter? He had no control over their behavior.”

Veledis gave up trying to make her friend admit to her scheme, or to colluding with Corradin. Whatever they had done to bring the two men together in the arena, with Veledis to witness them, there was no way to explain Zalman’s behavior as anything but dishonorable. Veledis was already composing a letter to Zalman—or no, to his mother—rejecting his suit.


	8. Boxing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fight, from a different point of view.

“I will crush you,” said Zalman fiercely, as they leaned their foreheads together.

“You—what?” Kidrash barely knew Zalman, and as far as he knew there was no quarrel between them.

“Poacher!” snarled Zalman. The judge called “begin” and the two pushed away from each other. Kidrash tried not to worry about what Zalman might have against him. A fight was a fight.

The first time Zalman tripped him he thought it was an accident. The second time, he knew it was a deliberate foul. A foot-foul, of course, was the easiest kind to conceal from the judge and the spectators. The floor outside the rim of the arena was raked slightly, but not enough to make for good visibility if you were standing more than one row back, and most of the men in the crowd couldn’t even see the boxers’ feet from where they stood. And if the judge didn't happen to be looking at the contestants' feet at the right moment, he would miss it as well.

Zalman struck Kidrash’s instep with his heel. Kidrash staggered and the judge, Arnem, ran forward and pushed the two of them away from each other. “No feet, my lords,” he said, wagging his head. But Kidrash didn’t think he understood what was happening. Either that, or he was a friend of Zalman’s.

The fight continued and so did Zalman's fouls. Kidrash grew weary of this. There was no way to complain without appearing weak. What could he do? He needed time to think, so he yelled “hold” and stepped back, standing with his palms out. He did his best to calm his breathing. Then he lowered his arms and stood there, waiting.

Zalman drove toward him, and at the last moment Kidrash decided to let the blow fall without blocking it. He staggered backward. An elbow to the chest: he would have a bad bruise.

“Giving up?” Zalman asked. “Why not just surrender?”

Kidrash didn’t answer. The second blow came a moment later, and it took all his strength of will to let it fall without hindrance.

“Bakka’s balls, what are you _doing_?” Zalman asked.

“You have no honor or courage. I want everybody to see it. Either you agree to my terms or you rain blows upon an unresisting man.”

Kidrash didn’t hear what Zalman said, but surmised that it was another curse. His opponent continued to circle, apparently trying to think of a way to get out of the situation gracefully. Then he put up his hands for a truce and came closer.

“What do you want?”

“No more fouls. A fair fight. An explanation for why you have a grudge against me when as far as I know you have no cause for it.”

“Poacher,” said Zalman again. “Veledis is mine.”

Finally Kidrash realized what this was about. He almost laughed. “If she were truly yours, nothing I could do would change that,” said Kidrash. “Besides, only a fool makes war over a woman. Do you really desire her that much?”

Zalman took a step back, his face becoming impassive. “If I lose her my father will have my beard,” he said.

“That is no concern of mine,” said Kidrash. "The lady will make her own choice, and I am under no obligation to yield to either you or your father."

“Are you ready to fight again?”

Kidrash drew a breath. “No more fouls. Your word.”

“Yes, yes, of course.”

The rest of the fight went better, but Zalman couldn’t resist another foul or two. Kidrash tried to think of way to offer surrender while making his contempt for his opponent clear, but before he could devise anything the judge called "halt!” The bout was over, and Kidrash had no doubt that Arnem would favor Zalman. There was some hissing as he declared the winner. Kidrash placed his hand on his forehead, bowed with an ostentatious flourish, and turned to look for Corradin.

Corradin was grinning, and when Kidrash approached he put an arm around his shoulders. “That was very well done,” he said.

“You think so?”

“Yes. You made him look like an oaf, especially to anybody watching from above.” Corradin motioned toward the curtained gallery.

“Who would be up there?”

“Well, I heard from a mouse that Veledis Tarkheena was planning to attend today.”

Kidrash jerked his head involuntarily and looked up at the curtain. He resisted the impulse to cross his arms over his bare chest; if she was up there, she had seen what there was to see already. He told himself to relax, fought to regain his equilibrium. He heard Corradin calling to Zalman; he heard him say something about "your beautiful widow." Now Zalman knew as well, it seemed. His friend turned back to him.

“By the Hand of Azaroth! Corradin, what have you done?”

“I’ve given you a chance to show your mettle, that’s all.”

“I lost the fight!”

“You were clever and honorable. You won in every way that matters.”

Kidrash shook his head. “Corradin…how did you know he would be so angry? I didn’t even know he was courting the lady….”

“I had no idea he would cheat. By Tash! that was a gift from the gods! I just knew that in a fair fight you would beat him and look good doing it.”

“You thought she would choose based on a fight? I don’t know the lady well, but I think you misjudge her.”

“Oh, of course not. But…Kidrash, I thought she ought to get a look at you when you’re not being quite so well-behaved.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“There’s a fire burning in you, Kidrash, but you hide it too well. Most ladies like a little heat, even if they don’t wish to admit it."


	9. Conversing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Veledis arranges a private chat with her suitor.

The season was nearing its end, and soon many nobles would be leaving Azim Balda for their homes in the provinces. Veledis had met Kidrash three times, had seen him box, and had investigated him thoroughly. She judged him thoughtful, self-disciplined, and shrewd; not a scholar, but a young man with considerable practical intelligence. Her investigations had only strengthened this impression. But she had never spoken to him privately, and she found that vexing. The only times she had had a glimpse of what might be going on behind his reserve were during the boxing match and the brief incident of the cat (she did think of letting the cat into the salon again during his next visit, but given what had happened the first time it would be terrible manners, besides looking calculated, and she doubted it would tell her anything new about him). 

She needed to speak to him. There were still a number of issues on which she wanted to sound him out. And, more urgently, she wished to know which was her real suitor—Kidrash, or his mother? 

Veledis decided to try to arrange a private conversation with Kidrash at the Academy of Azim Balda. The Academy lay in the Old Quarter of the city, a jumble of buildings built over a period of centuries and clustered around a large irregular central courtyard. In dry weather scholars gathered in the courtyard throughout the day to discuss matters of scholarship and other matters less serious. When it rained they gathered instead in the wide porticos of the buildings that bounded the courtyard. It was the only academy in the empire where men and women routinely worked together, and the customary separation between the sexes was looser there than elsewhere in the city. Women did not go veiled. It was of course forbidden for an unrelated man and woman to be closeted together, and so the doors of laboratories and lecture rooms were kept open whenever mixed groups of scholars were working in them. But as long as they were not hidden from view, a man and woman might speak privately in the courtyard or the porticos without anybody looking askance and, Veledis hoped, without exciting too much comment.

Her first thought was to send Kidrash a message asking him to meet her at the Academy. But she knew that if it it came out that she had sent him a private message the city’s gossips would make a tale of it. The whole situation struck her as quite ludicrous. She was considering joining her life to this man’s, sharing her bed with him, bearing his children! Why should she not communicate privately with him? For that matter, why should she not invite him to her own home without his mother or sisters accompanying him? It made no sense, and at home in the country it would not have been this way. The public nature of city life was very irksome. She knew, of course, that some widows, even those who had remarried, like Kamaleen, did as they pleased without worrying overmuch about gossip. Still, even though she had nothing to hide, Veledis did not like to take the risk of igniting a scandal. Finally she sent a message to Auraleen, whom she judged the more level-headed of her suitor's two sisters, saying that she was planning to attend a discussion at the Academy on the work of the great 7th century poet Arminthis, and suggesting that Auraleen join her. She trusted the young lady to understand that she was to bring her brother.

 

Veledis was seated in the hall where the discussion was about to begin when Auraleen arrived with Kidrash and the younger sister, Sithris. After they had all greeted each other Veledis expressed a desire for a breath of air, and somewhat to her surprise Kidrash immediately offered to accompany her to the courtyard. Was he eager for a private word with her, or was it simply that he knew that was her object? She rose, ignoring a stifled giggle from Sithris, and together they walked out to the courtyard. 

It was a chilly day, but sunny, and there were several knots of scholars in the courtyard and in the porticos. Veledis and Kidrash walked along the covered way, passing through bands of pale, late-winter sunlight alternating with the dark shadows of columns. She asked about his plans, and he told her what she already knew, that his family was preparing to return to Calavar in a few days. 

“And what will you do when you are home?” she asked.

“I hardly know. I am still learning to be lord of Calavar. But when I went on my progress I learned of a dispute over water rights among some of my vassals. I must attend to that soon. My steward, Pithra, has things well in hand at home, but I am certain there will be much to do on the estate. And there is always work to do with the horses, especially once the seasons of breeding and foaling begin.” 

“You will be busy, then, it seems.” 

“I think so. Also…” He paused. “Also, I may soon be riding out with Arzamith Tarkaan of Ilkeen. He has had trouble with some of the hill people in western Ilkeen turning to raiding when times are lean—and so have we in upland Calavar, though not recently. My father (may the peace of the gods be upon him) found it necessary every few years to remind the hill tribes that he would not tolerate raids. And at times he offered them some relief, if he thought it was warranted; it is difficult country for making a living. He and Arzamith rode out together on these errands a number of times over the years."

“Were the two men friends?”

“I would not say they were friends. But they were certainly on friendly terms, and Arzamith has been a good neighbor to us. I see no reason why the relation should not continue. I have already discussed this with his heir, Zalman Tarkaan, who is here in Azim Balda, as you know. And I have written to Arzamith as well.”

“I am glad to hear it. These alliances can be so fragile,” she said. Indeed, Veledis had already heard that Kidrash had visited Zalman a few days after the boxing match, presumably to try to mend the relationship, but she thought it interesting that Kidrash was going out of his way to reassure her about it. It was the closest either of them had come to acknowledging that she had seen the boxing match and that he knew it. Arzamith had lost the marital alliance with Tanadar that he had wanted, and Kidrash was clearly at pains to reassure everybody involved that whatever had happened between him and Zalman need not affect cooperation between Calavar and Ilkeen. Veledis approved.

"If one must ride out, it is always better to do so _with_ one's neighbors, rather than against them," Kidrash said. "We ride out to keep order, not to make war."

“Then this not a war party; I am glad. And in that case I suppose you will not be riding to battle again soon,” she said. “I have heard there is another truce with the rebels in the west.”

“Yes. The gods have granted us peace—for a time at least. It is difficult to believe that it will last.”

“Indeed. We have seen at least three truces in the last ten years, and none of them have held for very long. Do you not believe that this one will be any more enduring?“

“From what I have seen, I am not hopeful. But you need not fear, tarkheena. The westerners have never attacked east of the mountains, not in all the long history of the rebellion.”

“I have no fear of that. As I understand it, the westerners wish to break free of the empire, not to overrun it. But of course there are other ways than with military might to take the west. It is not only armies that have crossed the mountains; the immortal Tisroc has stripped so many western barons of their lands and titles that it seems half the west now is ruled by tarkaans of his choosing. And many of the western traders have property and ties of blood and marriage in other parts of the empire. They may think more of peace and commerce than of victory or even sovereignty. Do you not agree?” 

“Yes, I do. And from what I have seen, many commoners are exhausted and would be glad to see their leaders capitulate.”

“And yet the conflict continues...”

“Because it perpetuates itself. There are blood claims and resentments and calls for retribution on both sides. We put down one or the other of the rebel lords, we negotiate a truce; all is peaceful for a few months, or a few years, until someone is unable to resist the urge to pay for blood with more blood. It is difficult to imagine how we will ever make peace when there are so many blood debts still unpaid.”

She nodded. “And if you could go back and whisper in the ear of Ilsombreh the Great, what would you say to him about the western rebellion? What would you advise?”

He drew his brows together, puzzled. “Why do you ask about Ilsombreh, tarkheena? Why not Ardeeb, or Faroozh, or for that matter why not go back to the beginning, to Armzat?”

“Ilsombreh was the first Tisroc to truly unite the followers of Tash and of Azaroth, and our leaders since that time have not— have not _all_ lived up to his promise. If anybody could have brought the westerners to heel, it is he.”

He looked at her curiously. “In that case, tarkheena, what would he need with my advice?”

“You have information that he did not. From his point of view, you know the future. What would you foretell?”

“Another century of war…I suppose, if he knew of that, he might have been more willing to make peace when he had the opportunity. But I am not a student of history. I know very little about what was at stake during his reign. I do not know what the price of peace would have been at that time, whether it would have been possible to negotiate an agreement without allowing the west to break away—for that he absolutely could not do. It would be too dangerous to have an independent power at our backs.”

“I have made a study of his reign. Perhaps one day I will tell you more about it. But you are wise to understand that whatever peace could have been made then is not the same peace that might be made today. The terms have shifted, the empire has changed, and as you observed, the conflict now perpetuates itself. Magistra Avaleen of the Academy at Zalkeen has suggested that during the next truce—now I suppose—the ever-living Tisroc open his coffers to settle blood claims, so as to clear away as much as possible of the tinder that might fuel a new fire.”

“Not in the name of Tash, then! Fire and blood are his.”

“But your patron is Azaroth,” she said. “A god with a broader view.”

“ _My_ patron? We were talking of the coffers of the ever-living Tisroc...”

Veledis could not help but smile. “True. His are by far the richest, after all,” she said. Kidrash came to a halt, so Veledis stopped as well, and they regarded each other. For a moment she felt as though she was looking into a mirror: each of them was trying to read the other, and she wondered whether he was succeeding as poorly as she. His gaze seemed to her a challenge, and she fought an urge to look away.

After a moment he spoke. “Tarkheena…was it really the progress of the war in the west that you wished to discuss with me today?”

“I do not recall saying that I wished to discuss anything with you. I said only that I needed some air...." she said. He did not respond except to quirk an eyebrow, so she continued: "But as we are together for this brief time, we might as well discuss your suit.” His expression immediately became opaque. She doubted he was surprised, but perhaps he was apprehensive of questions or challenges she might pose. “Forgive my bluntness, tarkaan," she said, "but as you said a moment ago, you will be returning to Calavar soon, and of course I will be returning to Tanadar. I would like to have this matter settled before we all leave Azim Balda. There is no better time.”

“And...you have questions for me, tarkheena?”

“Yes, I do. I know your mother favors a match between us. Do you?”

His face betrayed some confusion. “Of course,” he said. “I would not be…pursuing it otherwise.”

“There is no ‘of course’ about it. You know it is the right time for you to marry, and that it is your duty, and that I am a good choice for a host of quite practical reasons. You are a conscientious young man, and I think you respect your mother's judgment, as you should. Unless you found the idea of marrying me positively repugnant you would probably accede to her wishes. But I would be more pleased to accept you if I knew that you were not merely making a prudent choice. I hope that it is something you truly wish.”

“Tarkheena…what would you...what would you have me say?”

He was at a loss, that much was clear. She tried again. “I see I am discomfiting you, and I seek your pardon for it. But...you are very young. Have you thought about what it means to take a wife? Have you thought about what you desire, for yourself?”

For a moment he seemed frozen, like a creature at bay. Then his expression came alive, and lightened, and he spoke: “A few months ago, when my mother asked what sort of wife I wanted, I said….beautiful, intelligent, and modest…graceful as a gazelle, wise as a she-eagle—or no, fierce as a she-eagle, wise as...as some other being known for its wisdom. I know I mentioned several creatures, all with commendable attributes, but I cannot now remember exactly what they were…” Veledis pursed her lips, suppressing a laugh. She knew he saw this, but he did not seem to mind. Perhaps he even wished her to laugh? “In any case, tarkeena,” he continued, meeting her eye, “you undoubtedly fulfill all of the most important requirements...indeed far better than I had dared to imagine...”

Now she was the one at a loss, more because of the way he looked at her than because of his words. “That is...that is...well said, Kidrash Tarkaan," she said.


	10. Deciding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The die is cast.

While they walked together in the portico Kidrash held his hands clasped behind him so as to avoid touching Veledis Tarkheena accidentally. It was an uncomfortable posture for walking, but it was a habit he had been taught as a child and he was accustomed to it. During the first part of their conversation, when they were discussing Ilkeen and the western rebellion, Kidrash began to feel almost easy with her, easy enough that he thought himself ready to steer the conversation toward its object. But he had not expected her to ask such a blunt question about his own desires, and he was so stunned that he was uncertain whether he could reply with anything like coherence. Veledis Tarkheena was as unnerving when she was being straightforward as when she was being oblique. 

For a moment he struggled to be eloquent, but he quickly gave up, thinking that perhaps to sound unpolished might be better than to attempt elegance and fail. He answered the question as it came to him, rather than trying to craft it. The words came out awkwardly but earnestly, although it wasn’t until he spoke his answer that he knew the truth of it. He could see that Veledis was amused, though she hid it well, and for some reason this pleased him. Perhaps it was because she was so clearly sympathetic, whereas at other times he had wondered if she were mocking him.

After speaking he felt like a bowstring in the moment after the arrow has been loosed. He perceived a resonance between them; a physical pull, yes, but more than that, a sense that at that moment they were in true accord.

“That is...that is...well said, Kidrash Tarkaan," she said. He knew that he had perturbed her composure and felt gratified. She could unsettle him so easily, he thought it only right that he be able to do the same to her.

"I am pleased that you think so, Tarkheena," he said.

They were silent for a moment. Kidrash gripped his hands tightly behind him.

"I think I know everything I need to know," she said, without taking her eyes from his face. "The...details of the contract should not be difficult to arrange. So...I suppose we are decided."

"I am honored. And...glad," he said.

They were silent again. He had never heard of a situation quite like this one before. But he was enjoying this silent concord very much and wished to prolong it as long as possible.

"I must write to your mother," she said eventually.

"Yes, I think that is what she would expect."

"Then we should say nothing to your sisters just now. Not until you have had a chance to speak to your mother."

"I think that is best. She will be very pleased. Overjoyed. And my father (on whom be the peace of the gods) would be as well, if he knew."

Veledis smiled. "My family will also be pleased. Vardash especially." Then she sighed. "There will be so much to arrange. It would be easier to do these things while we are all together in the city, but I suppose your departure cannot be delayed."

"I can delay a few days, but no longer. I cannot neglect the estate. But perhaps...perhaps it would be convenient for us to travel together, at least as far as Calavar. That would give us plenty of time to discuss the contract and...timing, and so forth."

She nodded judiciously. "An excellent idea. It will give us time to talk. And I will be pleased to see your estate. I visited there once with my father, but that was very long ago."

"It is a comfortable place. I look forward to showing it to you. We could take a day to ride around the estate."

"Oh," she said, looking chagrined. "I do not ride."

"You do not _ride_?" he burst out before he could stop himself. Then he stopped abruptly in horror at his outburst. The expression on her face had not changed, so he hoped she was not insulted. He cleared his throat and said, "I seek your pardon, tarkheena, for my discourtesy. But...how is that possible that you do not ride? How do you travel?"

"There is no need for you to seek my pardon. I know it is unusual. But my father is not wealthy, and when I was a girl we had no horse suitable for me to learn upon. And then...when I married, Fariz had some old injuries that made it uncomfortable for him to ride, so we traveled for the most part by chariot and when it was possible by sea. It is not that I have never sat a horse. But not often, and I have not had much instruction."

"Well then, if you allow it, I shall teach you," he said.

She smiled. "That would please me very much."

 


	11. Bothering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kidrash copes with his sisters.

Kidrash and Veledis soon rejoined Sithris and Auraleen. The two young women had dispensed with any pretense of attending the poetry discussion.

“It is just as well,” said Veledis. “I have never much admired Arminthis.”

“Haven’t you? How distressing. I admire her above all other poets. Indeed, I consider hers the pinnacle of literary attainment,” said Kidrash solemnly, and Veledis understood him well enough to smile. Sithris looked confused, Auraleen vaguely affronted.

Azim Balda’s streets were narrow and winding, especially in the older quarters of the city, and sedan chairs and litters were not common. The use of horses was also restricted in many parts of the city to limit the amount of filth in the streets, so they were all on foot. They left the Academy and walked down the lane together. Soon Veledis’s way diverged, and she bid them farewell and went on accompanied by her guard. She turned and nodded, and again for a moment Kidrash felt the resonance between them. He would see her tomorrow.

 

On the way back to the townhouse Sithris complained about the long walk. Kidrash pointed out that she had invited herself along, so if she was tired she had only herself to blame. After a while her complaints petered out and she began pestering her brother with questions and commentary about “your widow.” It was not long before he decided that he preferred listening to her complaints.

“Why did she wish to speak to you  _privately_?” Sithris asked. “To accept your proposal? But then why did she not just write to mother? _I_ think it must have been to arrange an assignation. One cannot blame her if she wishes to  _sample_  you before she makes a decision.” She giggled.

Kidrash glared at her, and Auraleen said, “O my sister, desist in your vulgarity.”

Sithris was undeterred. “Veledis is a widow, a mother of three children. She is hardly a blooming virgin!” Kidrash could not help but think of Corradin’s observations, the day before he left, on the appetites of widows, of which he claimed to have direct experience.

“No, but _you_ are,” said Auraleen. “Your behavior and speech are unbecoming. Our father (on whom be the peace of the gods) would be struck dumb with shame if he could hear half of what you have been saying.”

This silenced Sithris temporarily, but it was not long before she continued her assault on her brother’s composure: “Veledis is  _so_  beautiful. Don’t you like her, Kidrash? I think you do! And you need not worry about what defects her clothing might conceal. I have seen her in the baths, and I assure you, she is  _very_  shapely.” 

Kidrash glared at his sister again. She had just passed her 15th birthday and would have been married months ago, but for their father’s death. He had no idea how to make her behave properly. He had been away from home for most of the last two years, and during that time she had changed from a skinny girl who always seemed to have a dirty face, and who lived for nothing but riding, into a young lady who kept every hair in place and even while in mourning talked of little but clothes and jewels and weddings. It was a curious transformation. Auraleen had never been like this, and he could not imagine Veledis behaving this way either, even at 15. At high summer Sithris would be married to Emeth, heir of Maravar, but until then Kidrash was her guardian, and he felt the burden of it.

Auraleen tried again to rein in their sister. “Sithris, compose yourself!”

“I don’t understand why you are such a prude, Auraleen! You are a widow, too.”

“I am _not_ a widow,” said Auraleen sternly. “I am a maiden.” Auraleen was always quick to insist upon this, for though married at 15 she was widowed after only a few months. Having borne no children she resumed the legal status of a virgin and returned to their father’s household and guardianship. She had also taken the unusual step of purification at the temple of Zardeenah to restore her spiritual maidenhood (Kidrash didn’t understand this well, but of course Zardeenah was the final authority on who was, and was not, a maiden). Somehow Auraleen had persuaded their father not to make a new contract for her; she had other aspirations, and as Kidrash was now her legal guardian it was his responsibility whether or not to allow her to pursue them. Of all of his new roles, becoming his elder sister’s guardian was the one Kidrash found most uncomfortable, not because she gave him any trouble, but because he remembered all too well how she had gotten her way when they were children: not by persuasion or negotiation or trickery or (Sithris's favorite tactic) by making him feel sorry for her, but by refusing to bend. She was inexorable:  _Like Tash_ , he thought, smiling inwardly. But he did not say it, for it was a comparison that he knew she would not appreciate.

 

When they arrived at their house they found that their mother had gone out, taking Alimath with her. Sithris complained of being both dusty and sweaty (or, as she phrased it, “damp with perspiration”), and she went upstairs to wash, change her clothes, and rearrange her hair.

“You and she are not very much alike,” Kidrash commented, after Sithris had disappeared into her room.

“I think she is afraid, and all of her fussing and indelicate talk are to hide her fear of what marriage will be for her,” Auraleen replied.

Kidrash turned to her, a bit surprised by this insight. It had not occurred to him that Sithris might be afraid. “Emeth is a good man. I think he will treat her well,” he said.

“Men do not always understand what it means to treat a woman well, and they are not the best judges of whether another man is trustworthy where women are concerned,” said Auraleen. “He may hurt her without intending or realizing it. She will be going to a strange house filled with people who love and serve her husband and have no loyalty to her. In any case, whether Emeth Tarkaan treats our sister well or ill will be his choice. Have you read the contract? Emeth had so many other offers that Father (peace be upon him) could not ask for much in the way of terms. I told him he ought not to hold Sithris so cheaply, but, just as you did, he said that Emeth is a good man. And so the contract gives Sithris very little recourse if he treats her poorly. And even if he treats her gently she will know it is his whim, not something she is owed. She must always be grateful to him for  _not_ being cruel to her,” Auraleen said. 

“I had not seen it in that light. But we cannot change the contract now. We must hope for the best,” said Kidrash.

“Yes. It is unfortunate that the best is such a poor thing," Auraleen said gravely. "And while we are speaking of our sister's fate, O my brother, have you given any more thought to mine?”

Kidrash took a deep breath. Once he had promised, he could not change his mind. “I can think of no reason sufficient to refuse you,” he said after a moment. “If you believe that Zardeenah will accept you, then I will not prevent you from going to her temple. But, O my sister, I understand why our father was reluctant to let you go. The goddess is a harsh mistress, and once you dedicate yourself to her you are hers in life and death.”

“She is demanding, but I know her better than you do, and she is not harsh. She is kind, kinder than any mortal master or mistress could ever be.” 

Kidrash could not call a goddess kind who had a reputation for mercilessly smiting her own priestesses when they displeased her. Auraleen must not expect to incur the wrath of the Lady of Night, but then nobody would become a priestess with that expectation. At least his sister would be safe from any other threat: no mortal dared to harm the priestesses of Zardeenah, as the goddess also had a reputation for ferocity in their defense. His sister had been steadfast for many years in her desire to serve the goddess, and he had not the will to thwart that desire, as difficult as he found it to understand.

“When do you wish to go?” he asked.

“I promised Sithris I would go with her to perform the rites of Zardeenah, so I will wait until after her wedding. Then I may serve the goddess with a clean heart.”

“And we will not see you for many years,” said Kidrash. Novices were secluded in the temple for a decade or more before they were deemed fit to leave the temple and travel, doing the work of the goddess. In any case, Auraleen would never come home.

“That is what the Lady demands. I hope you understand that I think it a grave price, but a fair one, for the great reward of serving her.”

“What does mother say to you about it?”

“She weeps, and understands.”

“Well then, O my sister, let us make the most of our time together. I am going out now to exercise the horses. Alimath said he would help me, but as he is not here, will you come with me?”

Auraleen went so far as to smile. “Yes of course, O my brother. Racing across the plain with you is among the dearest memories of my childhood.”

“You are barely 20 years old. Your childhood is not that far in the past.”

“I suppose not, but it seems so to me.”

  

Kidrash and Auraleen walked down to the stable just inside the city gates where the family’s horses were kept while they were in town. The stable hands could exercise the horses, but Kidrash preferred to do it himself as much as possible. He and Auraleen rode out of the city gate, past the busy docks, and downstream on the road that flanked the river. Traffic was heading away from the city at this time of day, and rather than ride against it they turned inland and rode back to the city through the wide fields being made ready for the spring planting. Kidrash later thought of this ride as a last nostalgic taste of his childhood.

When they returned to the house their mother was smiling. She had in her hand the letter from Veledis saying that she had accepted Kidrash’s suit, pending negotiation of a contract acceptable to both parties. 

"O my son, I hope you are pleased. I know you will be happy."

"Yes, O my mother, I am greatly pleased."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this isn't too much of a digression, but I wanted to show a few more of the ways that women could fare in a system like this....


	12. Adjusting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What members of both families were thinking and dreaming that night.

Silveen Tarkheena went to bed with a sense of great accomplishment, but also, although she strove to suppress it, a feeling of bitter loss. Her husband had left her for the next realm, and now her children were leaving her as well, with what suddenly seemed to her like unseemly haste. Sithris would be married at high summer, Kidrash most likely in the autumn. Auraleen would go to the temple of Zardeenah as soon as she might. In less than two years Alimath, her youngest, would come of age and ride out. It was not as though any of this was unexpected. After all, Kidrash had been from home for most of the past two years, and if not for Rishti’s death Sithris would have been married by now. Auraleen had left home once already and, to Silveen’s secret joy, had come back soon afterward. Silveen had supported her in her wish not to marry again, for her own sake as well as her daughter's. But ever since she returned Auraleen had pressed her father about letting her go to the temple, and Silveen knew that eventually she would have persuaded him, as she had her brother.

Everything that was happening was what must happen. Indeed, it was what she had worked and planned to bring about. What made it all so difficult was Rishti’s death.

Silveen thought of how she had chosen her husband, much as Veledis had chosen Kidrash. She thought of the early, passionate years of their marriage and of the comfortable, if dull, companionship that had developed as the passion burnt itself out. She had not valued that companionship enough. She had assumed that they would have many more years together, but the gods had other plans, and now the prime of her life was over. Few widows her age remarried, and in any case she did not wish to. She felt herself too young to be a dowager, but that was what she must become. Veledis would soon be Lady of Calavar.

Silveen Tarkheena was not one to indulge in self-pity. She thrust aside these wretched thoughts and began to plan the next stage of her life. Once Kidrash and Veledis were married she would take Alimath with her to visit the daughter of her first marriage, Alzhaan, who had three young children. They would stay a few months before returning to Calavar. And then when Alimath came of age and rode out, she would move to Azim Balda. It would be better that way. It would give Veledis more room to breathe, to feel herself truly Lady of Calavar. Silveen’s fortune was more than adequate for her to live in comfort without having to depend on her children. She would enjoy the company of her friends, the busy social life of the city. Perhaps she would take up once more the oud, the instrument that had once been her joy and that she had not touched in many years. Soon, no doubt, she would have more grandchildren. She would visit her children and grandchildren, and they would visit her. She knew they would always honor her. Silveen Tarkheena had a strong will, and she willed herself to be content.

 

 ***

 

Alimath dreamed of bright shields and swords. He dreamed that he was riding into battle and that suddenly his horse broke rank and bolted. He could not control it as it galloped away from the battle. He was filled with horror. He would be thought a coward, and there was no way to convince anybody that it was not his fault.

 

 ***

 

Vardash dreamed that he was walking, holding his father’s hand. He could not remember ever doing this while his father was alive, but now he was loath to let go. His father's face was blurred or shadowed, but he seemed strong and vigorous, walking with a long, confident stride. He was like the man he had been three or four years ago, before he began to be so ill all the time. They were walking on a cliff-top overlooking the sea. Vardash did not recognize the place, but it reminded him of the coast south of the great port at the mouth of the river Tana. A fresh wind blew in from the sea, and Vardash felt a great desire to set sail.

 

 ***

 

Sithris tried not to worry about what might await her in her husband’s house, but when she lay down in bed with nothing to distract her the thoughts were difficult to banish. When she was first betrothed she had thought herself blessed by the gods. Emeth of Maravar was handsome and wealthy and only 31 years old, and on the two occasions when she had met him he had been very charming. He had not married as a youth because there were six lives between him and lordship of the province, and thus he was unable to attract a suitable bride. Then, over the course of about three years, two of his elder brothers and a nephew fell in battle in the west, and his remaining brother and nephew died of the Red Fever. Suddenly he was his father’s heir and receiving a flood of marriage offers. Rishti Tarkaan had been pleased to secure such a good husband for his favorite daughter, and Sithris’s friends, all afraid of being married to old and unappealing men, were practically sick with envy. But no man could be perfect.

Not long after her betrothal Sithris learned that Emeth of Maravar had a concubine who had borne him two sons. This could not be concealed because the elder of the boys was Emeth's heir until Sithris bore a son. Emeth had promised Rishti Tarkaan that he would put the girl aside, but Sithris knew she had little recourse if he reneged on that promise. It would be easy enough for him to conceal the girl somewhere. He must be attached to her, for he had favored her for more than ten years. Even if he did give her up, he might resent Sithris for being the cause of it.

Despite her worries and her jealousy, Sithris could not help but feel sorry for her rival. The girl was only a concubine, but of course she must have feelings. What would it be like to be put aside, to be displaced from a position of some honor in the household, to know that any sons Sithris bore would supplant hers? Perhaps she would be given to another man, perhaps she would even have her children taken from her. Sithris wished that nobody had ever told her of the concubine, whose name she didn't know. They would probably never meet, and perhaps that was for the best. Still, this girl—woman—would be able to tell her many of the things she most needed to know about her husband. Sithris wished it was within her power to arrange to talk to her.

 

 ***

 

Auraleen dreamed of the temple. She would be tranquil there; no man would ever touch her, and no woman would ever touch her intimately. She would learn to hold the pure spirit of the goddess within her, and when it came time she would put on a silver robe and go out into the world to seek justice for maidens, to protect them when she could and to mete out punishment to those who harmed them when she could not. Unfortunately, there was always a great deal of work for the priestesses of Zardeenah to do.

 

 ***

 

Kidrash did not dream, or if he did, he did not remember his dreams. But before he slept he thought again of what he had said to Veledis that afternoon, reliving it in his mind. As often happened he began thinking of all he could have said—how he could have been more elegant and poetic. In the end it hadn't mattered; Veledis had accepted him despite the awkwardness of his reply. But candor and eloquence need not be at odds. He began to think of how he would say all the things he wished to tell her. 

 

 ***

 

Veledis found herself sitting on a fence surrounding a grassy field. A large black stallion was grazing at the far end of the field.

“You will have to tame him,” said a voice. It was Kamaleen, who was sitting next to her on the fence. Veledis looked at her friend and saw that she appeared to be a young, unmarried girl. She looked down at herself and discovered that she too was a girl again.

A dream, then.

“He doesn’t look very wild,” Veledis said. The stallion lifted his head as though he had heard.

“Appearances may deceive,” said Kamaleen. “He has a mind of his own. You must not let him control you.”

“How could he do that? I will hold the reins.”

“Will you?” asked Kamaleen.

“Of course.”

Veledis looked at the stallion, who was still grazing quietly. She didn’t know much about horses, but even she could see this was a fine animal. She could look and look and not find a better one.

“You must be careful. He is stronger than you realize,” said Kamaleen. “You may need to give him his head from time to time. It will be better if he loves you.”

Veledis turned to her friend and knew that despite her appearance, this was not Kamaleen. She bent her head and covered her eyes with her hand. “Great Hahatoth, why do you appear thus to me?” she asked.

“Because I am concerned about you. You think you will be in control. You think you know what marriage is, but you do not. Passion changes everything.”

“Marriage? I do not understand. Were we not speaking of a horse?” 

“You were, perhaps,” said the goddess, and spoke no more.

After a while Veledis looked up. The goddess was gone. The stallion had left off grazing and was racing toward her across the field. He was a very fine animal. For a moment she was anxious. She knew so little of horses. And then, with relief, she remembered: Kidrash had offered to teach her to ride.


	13. Traveling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the road from Azim Balda to Calavar.

By dint of one household delaying its departure by two days and the other leaving Azim Balda a few days earlier than originally planned, they were able to make the journey to Calavar together. The party included the two families, a few retainers, and four men at arms. The remainder of the servants would follow later, after closing up the two houses, but it was still a large group and inevitably that made things slower. They anticipated that the journey to the estate in Calavar, only three days for a rider on a good horse, would take five days.

Before they departed they made an offering to Garza, god of travelers.

Kidrash spent much of his time the first morning keeping the party together and working out the best arrangement to protect them from brigands. This road was well-traveled and by and large it was safe, but still, it was the season for highway robbery. What worried him most was the chariot in which Veledis rode with her two younger children, Abbanis and Ilgarath, and their nursemaid, Ilda. His own family had never been attacked on this road, but then they had never traveled on it with a chariot. If necessary, those riding on horseback could leave the road to take cover or escape, but the chariot could be overtaken easily, and so it made them an attractive target. Noblewomen and children were usually in little danger of harm from brigands because they were generally held for ransom if captured. Brigands wanted easy targets, and they were more interested in profit than blood. This gave the victims of an attack a good deal of tactical advantage, as they had far less reason to show restraint than their attackers. Still, it would be foolhardy to assume that brigands would treat them gently.

Besides himself and the men at arms, the only other free male adult was Vardash’s tutor, who was elderly and scholarly and armed only with a bow. Slaves were forbidden from carrying edged weapons, but Rodit carried a staff, which Kidrash knew he could employ effectively. Kidrash was confident that Alimath could handle himself well if they were attacked, but Vardash was too young to be expected to fight like a man. Sithris, Auraleen, and their mother were all skilled archers and were carrying their bows, and he trusted them to outride any brigand.

Not long after they set off Kidrash rode up beside the chariot.

"Do you carry a dagger, Tarkheena?" he asked. "I do not wish to distress you, but there are sometimes brigands on the road this time of year."

The nursemaid, who until now had always kept her eyes lowered in his presence, looked up at him in horror. He felt chagrin for posing the question in her hearing. There was little reason for brigands to refrain from mistreating slaves, and the nursemaid would no doubt suffer if they were captured. Apparently she knew it.

But if Veledis was surprised by his question she did not show it. "Yes, of course," she said, taking the dagger from her belt and holding it for his inspection. "I have never had to use it to defend myself, but I have had some training and I believe I can wield it."

"It is unlikely you will need to, Tarkheena," said Kidrash. "Brigands rarely attack a party that includes so many armed men. Still, it is best to be prepared."

"I understand."

Kidrash nodded and rode to the front of the party to confer with the men at arms.

Eventually he put his own two men at arms in front as outriders. Veledis’s men rode on either side of the chariot, and Kidrash brought up the rear with Sithris, who was a superb archer, and Rodit. The others, all on horseback, rode in a loose formation between the outriders and the chariot. If they were attacked and the brigands got past either the outriders or the rearguard, then the women, Vardash, and the tutor were to scatter, while the rest protected the chariot, the unarmed retainers, and the packhorses. As a last resort the packhorses would be cut free and would no doubt bolt, which might draw some of the brigands away from the chariot to chase them down.

Once that was settled he tried to worry no more about it. An attack was unlikely. 

 

***

 

Veledis had not realized that her riding instruction would begin during the journey to Calavar. The first morning she rode in her chariot, while everybody else rode saddle horses. She was taken aback when Kidrash asked her whether she carried a dagger. When she journeyed from Tanadar to Azim Balda she had traveled by the coast road as far as the mouth of the Bal and then by barge upriver to the city. It was not the most direct route, or the quickest, but it was heavily trafficked and quite safe, and she had not thought much of the danger of attack on this road before now. She hoped that Kidrash was simply being prudent. He assured them that brigands were unlikely, but poor Ilda was badly frightened and remained nervous and skittish for the rest of the morning.

And then, that first afternoon, after they had left Azim Balda and its heavy traffic behind, Kidrash suggested that Veledis ride his mother’s horse for a bit, while his mother rode in the chariot. Veledis was so surprised that she must have let her nervousness show, because Kidrash assured her that the horse was very good-tempered and that this stretch of road was in excellent repair. So when they got to the next way station Auraleen lent Veledis a pair of riding trousers and helped her mount Silveen Tarkheena’s bay mare, while Silveen settled herself in the chariot.

Veledis was a little amused by Kidrash’s notions of propriety. A couple of times he reached forward as though to correct the position of her hands on the reins, then pulled back sharply, catching himself. She considered telling him that he was free to touch her hand in the context of the lesson, but she feared this might embarrass him. In any case, Veledis didn’t ride for very long that afternoon. Kidrash said that it was better to start slowly, and if she wasn’t too sore the next day she could try a longer stint in the saddle. The next day she felt stiff, but not sore, and managed to ride a little longer. By the third day she was beginning to feel more comfortable in the saddle and was able to mount and dismount without making Sithris laugh.

 

***

 

Late in the afternoon of the fourth day they rode through a region of hilly country just north of the border with Calavar. Kidrash and Veledis were riding in the rear with Rodit and Sithris when a shout startled them out of their conversation. Kidrash scanned the way ahead and saw riders coming up out of a gully on the west side of the road and emerging from a stand of trees to the east. Why had the outriders not spotted them sooner? He did a rough count: there were at least ten of them, probably more.

He exchanged a glance with Sithris, who nodded and without further hesitation plunged off the road on the west side. Then he looked at Veledis, who was staring at the chariot that held her children. The charioteer had halted and Alimath and all of the men at arms were already surrounding the vehicle, ready to face the brigands.

Veledis began to urge her horse forward and Kidrash grabbed her by the upper arm.

“Go that way,” he said, gesturing to the west. He knew she was not yet a good enough rider to be sure of keeping her seat when riding quickly over open terrain, so he added, “Don’t try anything daring. Find cover as soon as you can and then wait. Have your dagger ready.”

She opened her mouth to argue, so he slapped her horse’s rump and yelled “Away!” The horse, at least, knew who was master. Kidrash watched for another moment to be sure that she was on her way.

Then he and Rodit rode forward to meet the brigands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _"...the journey to the estate in Calavar, only three days for a rider on a good horse..."_
> 
> That's how long it takes Aravis to ride to Azim Balda, anyway.
> 
>  
> 
> The word "chariot" has been bothering me. Many terms for horse-drawn vehicles are used imprecisely, but "chariot" most often refers to a two-wheeled vehicle designed to carry one or two people. On the other hand, it's also a very old word with a more general meaning of horse-drawn passenger vehicle, and has been used promiscuously to describe all sorts of carriages. None of the other words I have tried have seemed quite right to me, so I'm going to stick with chariot.


	14. Defending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brigands!

Veledis concentrated on keeping her seat. The horse raced across a shallow depression beside the road, and then up what seemed to Veledis like a terrifyingly steep slope. Soon the slope leveled out a bit and she thought she saw a stand of trees near the top, but she couldn’t be sure as she was bent low over the horse's neck. Also, she was squinting into the late afternoon sun, which in a way was a good thing, since anybody who was chasing her would have the same problem. But she wished she could see better.

She didn’t realize she was being followed until she heard a whinny and a man’s cry of pain. She knew she should ride on, but she couldn’t help turning to look. There were two riders behind her. One was a brigand and the other was Sithris, who was pelting after him, her bow in her hand. Veledis was just in time to see the brigand swerve and ride off northwards. A few moments later Sithris caught up with her.

“Up here,” said Sithris, and led the way uphill toward the stand of trees. There were no other riders about. They rode in among the trees and halted.

“What happened?” asked Veledis.

“He was chasing me at first, but I outpaced him, so he went after you,” said Sithris. “I shot him in the shoulder. A good disabling shot, from what I could see.” Veledis was surprised. Kidrash had said that Sithris was a fine archer, but it seemed odd to hear this young woman, whom she had thought of as naïve and a bit frivolous, talking so coolly about shooting a man. “It will be over soon,” said Sithris. “Brigands will give up if you resist. They don’t wish to pay too dearly for their prizes. Look!”

Veledis peered at the road through the trees. She saw a confused knot of horses and men. The chariot was behind them, out of sight. A couple of brigands were already riding away, and soon the rest were fleeing. She saw Alimath start to chase after one of them, but Kidrash yelled and the boy checked his horse and rode back to his brother. There were three men lying in the road and a couple of horses running loose, but all the mounted brigands were now out of sight. A moment later she noticed Auraleen riding up the road from the south, leading one of the packhorses.

Kidrash held up an arm and circled his horse. “We’re to rejoin them now,” said Sithris. “Come on.”

As they approached the road Vardash came riding to meet them. “Abby and Grath are all right,” he called. Veledis felt a surge of relief as she hastened forward. Leaning from the saddle she caught Vardash in an awkward embrace. Sithris took her arm to steady her.

Two of the men lying in the road were brigands, one clearly dead, the other wounded and groaning. The third was Shiveth, one of her guards, who was now sitting up while Rodit tended him. Veledis passed by them and through the knot of people standing around the chariot, where Silveen was sitting with an arm around each of the two wide-eyed children. Silveen moved aside, and somehow Veledis dismounted and got into the chariot to gather her children into her arms.

“I didn’t panic,” said Abbanis. “Silveen Tarkheena told me to get under the seat and I did.”

“Yes, both children did very well,” said Silveen.

“But where is Ilda?” Veledis asked.

“I made her get under the other seat,” said Silveen.

Veledis bent over to look, but the young woman was still firmly wedged beneath the seat and all Veledis could see of her was her back and her headscarf. “You can come out now,” she said gently, but the only answer was a moan.

“What’s wrong with her?” asked Sithris.

Auraleen rounded on her sister and said, “How do you suppose you would feel if you had no horse, no weapon, and no rank to protect you? Do you understand what could have happened to her if she had been captured?”

“But she’s safe now,” Sithris said with a little shrug, and Auraleen shook her head and turned away angrily. Veledis thought of saying something, but it seemed people were on edge and she judged it better to stay silent.

Over the next few minutes they sorted themselves out. Veledis remained with her children. The two wounded men would have to be placed with them in the chariot. This left no room for Ilda, who was by this time beginning to recover, so Silveen and Auraleen gently persuaded her to ride Silveen’s horse while Silveen took Shiveth’s mount. Three of the packhorses had been cut loose during the fight. Auraleen had retrieved one and another had returned on its own, but the third was nowhere to be seen, and Kidrash judged it too dangerous to send one of the men to search for it. Finally they slung the dead brigand over his own horse (Veledis heard one of the men mutter something about leaving him to the crows) and were ready to be on their way. There was a good-sized town about an hour’s ride away. 

The wounded brigand was bound and in any case had lost too much blood to be dangerous, but Veledis still did not feel easy sitting in the chariot with him. There was no help for it, though; he was unable to ride, and Kidrash meant to deliver him to the local magistrate. Shiveth had a long cut in his thigh, not deep enough to be dangerous, but in need of stitches. Rodit had bound the wound, but apparently it was painful because Shiveth sat silently with gritted teeth and winced every time the chariot jolted. The charioteer had been grazed by an arrow, but nobody else was hurt.

As they set off, Kidrash rode up beside the chariot, a grim expression on his face. He said nothing for some minutes. Finally he spoke: “I seek your pardon, Tarkheena.”

“My pardon? For what?”

“For putting you in more danger than necessary. And for separating you from your children. I ought to have realized that if we were attacked while you were riding, it would be ill. I did not take into account that you were not ready to gallop over open country. It would have been better if you were in the chariot.”

“I suppose that is true, but no great harm has come to us. Sithris shot the robber who chased me, and Silveen Tarkheena protected my children and my slave, perhaps better than I could have done.”

“My judgment was poor,” he insisted.

“Next time it will be better,” she said. “And of course you have my pardon. But I do agree that I must stay in the chariot for the rest of the journey.”

He nodded. “I also seek your pardon for…pulling at your arm.”

Veledis had forgotten this. “You need not seek my pardon for that. It was necessary,” she said.

Kidrash shook his head. “I ought to have…found another way.”

“Please! This is ridiculous. In a moment like that, you should not be worried about propriety. You did what needed to be done. I will not pardon you for it because there is nothing for me to pardon!”

He still looked uncomfortable, but before she could say more he said, "I have much to see to. I doubt they will attack again, but until we reach town we will have to keep a vigilant watch."

"Of course. We will speak later," she said. He nodded and rode forward.

 

When they reached the town they went to the inn to rest and have supper. While they were getting settled Kidrash and his men took the two brigands, dead and alive, to the magistrate. When they returned from this errand Kidrash had the expression of a man relieved of a heavy burden. He joined them at the table.

"What will happen to the robber?" Veledis asked.

"If he is not wanted for other crimes, he will probably be sold as an indenture, for seven years, or eleven. Or, if he is willing to betray his fellows and help the magistrate to capture them, then perhaps no more than a whipping."

"I wonder..." said Veledis.

"About what, Tarkheena?"

"About how Hahatoth would judge the man's choice. To betray one's comrades is shameful, but to help to bring criminals to justice is a worthy deed. Then again, if he did so only in order to lessen his punishment, the value of the deed would be less. It is an interesting question."

"I had not thought of it thus," he said. He looked at her quizzically. "Are you certain you are recovered from the ordeal?" he asked.

“Oh, yes. But tell me all that happened. I saw only a very little,” Veledis said.

Kidrash smiled and seemed to relax a little. "You think I wish to tell you of my brave deeds? It seems Sithris may have a better tale to tell. Did she really shoot one of the robbers?"


	15. Beguiling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Landscapes, actual and metaphorical.

The next day the travelers rose early. The weather was fair, as it had been throughout the journey, and Kidrash expected to reach the estate before sundown. Garza might have sent them brigands, but at least he hadn’t sent them any rain.

The attack by the brigands had rattled Kidrash badly. He considered himself fortunate that Veledis, for all her diligent study and breadth of knowledge, had apparently never given much thought to military tactics. Otherwise, she might have realized how appallingly foolish he had been. She had forgiven him easily, but he had not yet forgiven himself for his stupidity. When he thought about how disastrous it could have been, his knees turned to water. That Veledis had managed to keep her seat was a miracle, and he wondered which god to thank; Epona, goddess of horses, perhaps? As for Garza, Kidrash was unsure whether the offering he had made last night after everyone else had gone to bed had been one of thanks or appeasement. It had been fortunate, after all, that the band of brigands was small and that they had given up so quickly. Clearly these brigands were in business for profit and endeavored to shed as little blood as possible; and clearly they knew very well the penalties they would face if captured and so took care to avoid crossing certain lines. Very sensible of them. Perhaps Garza had sent them as a test; but if so, Kidrash had very nearly failed.

Kidrash asked himself why had he been so eager to begin Veledis’s riding lessons. He concluded with chagrin that it was because he enjoyed demonstrating his mastery. It was good, for once, to have more experience, more skill, more expertise than she. As he had expected, Veledis was attentive and quick to learn. He admired her rapid progress and also prided himself that he was teaching her well. More than that, he took pleasure in having her riding by his side. He wanted her with him. Now he worried that he had allowed his feelings to cloud his judgment.

He thought of a conversation he had had with Corradin just before his friend left Azim Balda (the same conversation during which Corradin regaled him with tales of the appetites of widows). Corradin had professed to be worried about him.

“You esteem this lady too much, Kidrash. She is a woman like any other. I would hate to see you become enslaved to her.”

“There’s no danger of that! I would never agree to a contract that allowed her to hold my reins.”

“Of course not. But take care that your own heart doesn’t enslave you. It is good for a man to like his wife, and better still for him to desire his wife; but if he falls in love with her she will use his heart to rule him.”

“Are you quoting the poets?” Kidrash had asked.

And Corradin had laughed. “Oh, probably. But I couldn’t tell you which one.”

Kidrash now wondered whether Corridin was right, and whether he ought to do his best to harden his heart. But he found that he did not wish to. He felt drawn to Veledis, and there was something intoxicating about his feelings, something he did not wish to renounce. He suspected that it was already too late to halt his fall.

As they drew nearer to Calavar, Kidrash began to feel his mood lifting. When he came home to Calavar after receiving the news of his father's death the joy of homecoming he usually felt had of course been crushed under the weight of his grief. But now he was bringing his betrothed, who was all that he could have hoped for, and she had forgiven him his blunder, and he had avoided what might have been a disastrous failure. So he decided to allow himself forgiveness and to feel the beauty and peace of Calavar.

 

Veledis was weary of traveling and was eager to see the estate at Calavar, of which she had heard so much. Kidrash had been awkward and silent early in the day, but by afternoon he seemed more at ease, and Veledis supposed that he must be eager to see his home.

Veledis had never felt especially attached to any of the places where she had lived. She had spent her childhood on her father’s ancient but impoverished mountain holding, where he grew olives and chestnuts, raised goats, and eked out a living from a nearly played-out copper mine and sporadic payments for his designs. He rode a gaited mule, but this was acceptable only as a necessary indignity, and Veledis never learned to ride; when they traveled to the lowlands it was by mule-drawn cart. Veledis mainly remembered her childhood as dull. She had little company apart from her family and her friend Kamaleen, who lived further down the mountain. Scholars and engineers sometimes came to consult her father, who in his youth had designed improvements to many of the water wheels for which Tanadar was famous. Her mother, who was a mathematician, spent several months of each year at the Academy at Zalkeen. After Veledis turned eight years old she accompanied her mother on these sojourns, and at home she spent much of her time exploring the contents of her parents’ library. When she left to be married, the only things she missed were her family and the library.

Of course, from an early age Veledis had known that she would not always live in her father’s house, for she would go to her husband’s house when she married, and she would probably marry more than once. She had every reason to resist any impulse to put down roots. She wondered what it was like to yearn for one’s birthplace.

In the mid-afternoon they turned off the main road onto the road that led to the estate. It was narrow but well-maintained, winding along a ridge through a forest of cedar and oak. Soon they reached a signal post where two men of Calavar were stationed. One of the men raised a signal flag to alert the household that their lord would soon arrive.

Now that they were properly on lands belonging to the lord of Calavar, and thus as safe from attack as they could ever be, Veledis once more mounted one of the spare horses. Silveen and her daughters removed their veils, evidently with relief, so Veledis did so as well. From the signal post the road descended a steep hillside in long switchbacks. Veledis and Kidrash rode together and were ahead of the others when they came to the end of a switchback where an opening in the trees offered a clear view southward over the estate. It was an admirable prospect. The slope below them was wooded with live oak, laurel, and buckeye, giving way at the base of the hill to gently sloping fields where horses grazed. Beyond these pastures were stables and outbuildings, and then, on a low hill, the house. It was of pale golden marble, and instead of the more typical square shape with a central courtyard it was shaped like a horseshoe, with an open terrace at the back giving onto a formal garden. A single white flag flew over it, as it would until the day following the anniversary of Rishti Tarkaan’s death. On either side of the house were orchards; Veledis recognized the dark, glossy leaves of citrus and the narrow gray-green leaves of olive trees. Beyond the house, to the southeast, lay vineyards and the road leading down to the coast. Due south was the faraway gleam of the river. The view upriver, to the west, was hidden by a fold of grassy hillside.

“Beautiful. How green it is!” Veledis exclaimed. It was utterly different from Tanadar, where the only arable land was in the narrow coastal plain that lay between the mountains and the sea. Tanadar’s wealth came from copper, marble, pearls, and salt, and from the mills that harnessed the power of the great waterfalls flowing down from the mountains.

“This is the greenest time of year,” Kidrash said. “We may see a little more rain before the season ends, but by midsummer this will all be quite dry. It’s beautiful then, too: all tawny, like the flank of a great sleeping beast. But of course we irrigate the orchards during the dry season. There’s a dam and a reservoir upstream, and there are more orchards and horse pastures up there as well. These pastures near the house are where we keep the breeding mares and the horses that we are training. We can go upriver tomorrow if you wish.”

“Oh yes, I look forward to it,” she said. “And I now see why your sisters are so good at riding and shooting and all these outdoor pursuits. If I had grown up here, no doubt I would have wanted to spend more of my time outdoors instead of bent over a book.”

They descended the last switchback and rode through the pasture onto a trail that skirted the orchard west of the house, so that they might approach it from the front. The orchards upriver grew fruit for export, but these orchards, Kidrash explained, supplied the household.

“We grow olives, figs, and almonds on the other side, but this is mainly citrus. Here are limes and citrons, and there are oranges further on. And these little fruits are called kivalis…”

“I’ve never seen them before. How do you use them?”

“They aren’t quite ripe yet, or I would pick some for you. They’re very fragrant, and you eat them whole, skin and all, fresh or preserved in syrup. They are a new kind of fruit, grown only here in Calavar, so it is not surprising that you have never seen one. We don’t trade them yet. Perhaps in another 10 or 20 years, if the upland orchard does well, we will have enough to export.”

“A new kind of fruit? How does that happen?”

“Sometimes from cross-breeding. But kivalis are what we call a gift of Agnath. It must have been 30 years ago or more, in my grandfather’s time: one branch of an orange tree began bearing this new kind of fruit.”

“How marvelous! Truly a gift of the goddess.”

 

Kidrash found himself ridiculously gratified to hear Veledis’s praise of the estate—praise that was, as he would have expected of her, judicious, perceptive, and obviously sincere, and all the more flattering because she made no attempt to flatter.

When Kidrash saw that the oranges were ripe he rode in among the trees and plucked one to give to Veledis. Her fingers brushed his as she took it from him.

 _‘Ah! Thou seek’st to beguile me with this fruit, to draw me near to thee as a flower, with sweet perfume, draws a bee into its heart_ ,” she said.

For a moment he did not understand her, and then he realized that she was quoting from the verse play _The Sacred Vine_ , about the courtship of Bakka and Iradnis. He struggled to remember the next line and after a moment retrieved it: “ _Nay, for art not thou the flower, and I the bee who would drink deep of thee?_ ”

Kidrash stopped abruptly, his face growing warm. He had never quite realized before this how suggestive the line was. But Veledis had chosen a line to quote, and he had merely responded with the next, so she could not take offense, could she? He glanced at her warily and she raised an eyebrow and smiled at him.

At the edge of his vision Kidrash saw Sithris roll her eyes, but even this did not dim his delight.

The sun was just setting when they rode around to the main entrance. It was not the best time of day to admire the facade, but Veledis said she would have time to look at it tomorrow when the light was better.

They dismounted and walked up the stairs and into the pillared entryway, where the household had assembled, and the steward and the captain greeted them. Silveen Tarkheena introduced Veledis and her children and then briskly took charge of the bustle of arrival.

By the time they bathed and rested night had fallen. It was clear, and the stars shone brightly. The evening being cool, Kidrash had braziers lit so that the family and guests might eat a late supper outside on the terrace.

Kidrash would sleep tonight in the rooms that had been his father’s, which had been made over for him while the family was in Azim Balda. His mother had already had her things moved out of the adjoining rooms. Those rooms, Kidrash realized with a pleasant shiver, would belong to Veledis before the beginning of the next rainy season.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Live oak and buckeye are the American terms for evergreen oaks and horse chestnuts, respectively. In my Narnia writing I generally try to use old world terminology because it's more consistent with canon. But my Calavar looks a lot like California, and since those are the words we use here the vocabulary just seemed right to me. Also, California is burning up right now, and I'm feeling emotional about it.
> 
> The characters' view of mules reflects a prejudice against these fine animals that I _do not_ share. Mules are strong, intelligent, sure-footed, and handsome. But they are not as high-class as horses, so it would be something of an embarrassment for Veledis's father to have to ride one. He rode a mule because mules are suited to mountainous terrain, and he couldn't afford to keep a horse just to look dignified when he went down to the lowlands.


End file.
